“And frankly, he was just a better messenger and communicator than she was,” Conway said. “So, I just said she, and I know I was brought on… God, I hope that’s a squirrel and not a rat… Um, I was, yeah. Hi, squirrel.”

Hi, squirrel! Thank you for your squirrel service—graciously giving us all this much-needed moment of frivolity and excuses to link to that dog from Up amid so much dissembling bullshit. We hope you found some tasty acorns before the salted earth spreading outward from at Conway’s feet overtook the whole lawn. As Conway herself laughed, your interruption is “better than the lawnmower that’s always back there,” whose loud drones, try as they might, are simply not enough to drown out the rusty sawing of Conway’s own mechanical cacophony.